Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

He lay on the wooden board, and the rich smell of salt and smoke wrapped around him, reminding him of the salted fish sitting on the chopping board, waiting for the cutter.

His legs were numb, the bloodstains had long since dried, and the severe pain may still be there, or it may not be there and he couldn't feel it anymore.

Coming out of King's Landing, the entire royal territory seemed to be hit by heavy rain.

Varys kept coughing and begging.

"O gods old and new, end my pain, end me."

As a result, his legs were broken and poison was poured into his mouth. Wallis knew the taste of the medicine. It was bitter and dry, and it softened the roots of his teeth. This basically prevented him from even biting his tongue.

A born intelligence manager, a born little bird.

"Cough cough cough!" Wallis coughed up a trace of fresh blood.

Evan Aylin looked at him sideways. It was probably because the wind-swept wilderness was too cold. Varys felt as if his body was uncontrollable and he couldn't stop trembling. There were knots at the bottom of each vellus hair, standing straight.

The iron glove was thrown on his back, making a crisp sound, "The spider cannot die. The Duke needs to pry out more than a little bit of information from his mouth."

The gorgeous golden eagle is also so vicious. The contempt and contempt in Wallis's heart have long been washed away by the heavy rain, and his heart is empty, leaving only the sound of despair.

"Tsk tsk tsk~"

He heard a clear sneer. The voice sounded so familiar. Wallis opened his mouth. Wasn't this his own voice hiding in the dark and waiting for the situation to become clear? Exclusive to the Eight-clawed Spider, exclusive to the Intelligence Director.

"If I hadn't reacted in time, only the gods would know what ridiculous things your people would have done in the Great Temple of Baelor." Evan Aylin raised his eyebrows, his whole face full of ridicule.

With a victor's tone, Wallis coughed again, his saliva mixed with the wet sawdust pimples, making his nose itchy and causing him to cough continuously.

His words were as fancy and childish as his appearance, how could he be defeated by this person?

The eight-clawed spider became the grasshopper's meal. It was really ironic that Varys felt gloomy in his heart.

"Long live Stannis!" Evan Arryn waved his arms provocatively. "Wonderful work." He boasted.

Varys was speechless. Thinking of the unknown assassins who were the first to mislead the people, his chest seemed to be pressed and blocked by a big stone, making it difficult to breathe.

"The tender meat oozing with fat, the clanking golden dragon, and the unprecedented drama in King's Landing. If we don't seize the opportunity, how can the Andals spread their wings and fly high under the protection of the Arryn family?"

The wheel suddenly shook, and Wallis's mouth and nose repeatedly hit the salt-smelling wooden board. His fat body twisted and remained silent.

He could recognize where this road led, to the king's barracks of the Valemen, or to Harrenhal occupied by Arryn.

“People pray to Heavenly Father for judgment so that justice may be done”

Joffrey was drowsy, his sleepy eyes struggling, and the whip fell rapidly.

"No!" He screamed, but he was still a step too late, and a bloodstain appeared on the king's back.

"Ah wow wow!" Joffrey moved his limbs slowly, as if the last bit of strength had been drained out by the whip, and choked cries flowed from his mouth, just like his uncontrollable nose and saliva.

The nun held up the whip and looked at him indifferently, "Who are you?"

Joffrey's lips were trembling, obviously not because of the cold, but because of fear. His neck twitched unusually, and the contraction of the muscles could be clearly seen.

"I'm thirsty for water." Joffrey stretched his neck, veins bulging clearly along his temples, and he looked pleading.

Damn it! Damn it! This is the expression of a sheep, not a stag! Not Baratheon!

The nun rarely showed pity in her eyes, "Everyone in the world is thirsty, can't you see that Your Majesty?"

"Crack!"

Another whip went down.

"Ah wow wow!!!" Joffrey wailed, kneeling down in pain and begging for mercy, but what he got in exchange was another beating.

The door opened softly, "squeak~ah~"

Joffrey looked at the person. Gray hair and eyebrows covered the obvious wrinkles on his face.

So kind. A strange feeling of closeness surged into Joffrey's heart, and he couldn't help but hunched his limbs and crawled on the floor in a twisted manner, "Shui Shui." Bloodshot eyes filled the whites of his eyes, like a dying person.

A touch of coolness and even sweetness touched his lips, and Joffrey's head stopped there, slightly stunned.

Then there was swallowing, swallowing water with all his strength, like vultures fighting for rotten flesh and blood.

"May the Seven Gods bless you, Your Majesty." The High Sparrow knelt down and smiled at him.

Joffrey swallowed, tears streaming down his face, his throat seemed to be choked, and he said word by word, "I, I. Pray for the protection of the gods."

The High Sparrow stretched out his arm, hugged Joffrey, and patted his back, "Of course they will bless you. You are a king, a king blessed by God, and his rainbow sword is prepared for you. "

Joffrey swallowed his snot and tears and whimpered "Yeah"

"Good boy." The High Sparrow drew out his arms and closed the door ruthlessly in Joffrey's pleading voice.

"Don't go! Don't go! Oooh!"

Whip, king, begging for mercy, nun. In the dark cabin.

"I will be very useful to you, Duke Attis." Varys swallowed the blood, tasting the fishy sweetness in the blood.

Attis looked at Varys. He didn't think he would have any intersection with the famous octopus spider and the intelligence minister who had experienced two dynasties. After all, the lord of the valley only needed to maintain the order of the kingdom and live safely in the Eyrie. Even if he didn't ask about government affairs, it wouldn't be a bad thing to leave all the things to the Gates of the Moon. It might be more efficient.

"King Robert's death, this war, the whereabouts of wildfire, there are all strange things in it," Attis said, staring at Varys's eyes that were tortured to the point of collapse, "Too many strange things, you are in King's Landing, you know everything, come," he stood up and picked up the wine glass beside him, "moisten your throat and tell me slowly, who are you loyal to, Stannis? Not like Tywin, it's even more impossible, who else? Tell me, your life is safe."

Varys was silent and closed his eyes as if he accepted his fate.

Evan Arryn looked at the Duke, who sighed softly and nodded.

The spider was dragged into the prison and tortured.

If the red-robed woman was here, things would be much simpler. Attis thought, and looked out the window. The huge God's Eye Lake seemed like melted wax, and the water flow was much slower than that seen by the naked eye.

He just sat there, waiting for the golden eagle to give him an answer.

From day to night, from the extinguished candle ash to the lit oil droplets, Attis held the book and pinched marks on the paper.

Evan Aling came over, holding the spider's answer in his hand.

"Is he dead?"

"Not yet."

"Drag him out."

Attis stood up, and Ange and Harold Hatton hurriedly followed, carrying armor and swords.

The knights of the valley gathered around, and a huge bonfire rose in the center of the castle, surrounded by the towers around, as if in the palm of Heron's hand.

"In the name of Robert I of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Artis of the House Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the Trident and Warden of the East, sentence you to death."

Varys lowered his head, with the last expression on his face, which was a look of astonishment mixed with reluctance.

The head fell, and Harrenhal added another corpse.

Octopus spider?

There are no more octopus spiders in Westeros.